


Cosmopolitan

by harinezumiko



Series: Quantum entanglement [3]
Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! GX
Genre: Alcohol, Clubbing, Kissing, Love Confessions, M/M, Old Friends, stormshipping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-03
Updated: 2018-08-03
Packaged: 2019-06-21 09:21:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15554580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/harinezumiko/pseuds/harinezumiko
Summary: Parted from me and never parted, never and always touching and touched.





	Cosmopolitan

The music was too loud. The repetitive bass thrummed in Manjoume’s ears and drowned out any melody that might have been present. He struggled back through the crowded club, three drinks clutched precariously to his chest, and scanned the room illuminated in strobing flashes of colour to make his way to his colleagues.

“Manjoume-kun?” The voice was close, and familiar enough – if a little hoarse – to cut through the noise. Manjoume turned and looked up, his fingers tensing around the glass.

“Tenjoin-san?” It was Fubuki, all right, attired in a neon pink shirt and jeans too white for the grime of the club. His hair was tied back but strands had worked loose from dancing, clinging to Fubuki’s cheeks and collarbones.

 “Why so formal?” Fubuki smiled ruefully. “Here, let me help you with those.”

In an awkward ballet of hands Fubuki managed to extract the central drink from Manjoume’s grip. He followed Manjoume to a table at the back of the room. The two sat there were also duelists, in Manjoume’s league but still completely out of it as far as Fubuki was concerned, in the nondescript uniform of off-duty celebrities – immaculately torn jeans and branded athleisure t shirts. Fubuki greeted them with a smile as Manjoume made introductions.

Fubuki squeezed onto the semi-circular leather couch at Manjoume’s invitation. “You know, if you’re in the VIP area, you can just order drinks to your table?”

Manjoume’s eyes slid over to his companions. “I just felt like taking a walk.”

Fubuki had to strain to hear him. “It is a bit stuffy in here. Let’s head outside for a bit.” He led the way to the club’s back door with polite excuses.

Manjoume braced against the shock of the cool night air, rubbing the thin fabric covering his arms. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

“A couple of years, I think,” said Fubuki, leaning against the wall. The thumping music had subsided to a background annoyance. Above it burbled the conversations of the smokers and trendsetters clustered around them.

“We should catch up some time. Go for dinner or something.” Manjoume fumbled his phone from his pocket. “What’s your number?”

“It hasn’t changed,” said Fubuki. He blinked up at the stars, tracing the patterns with an idle finger.

“Really?” Manjoume fished desperately for an out. “Someone said –”

“Manjoume-kun,” Fubuki looked him square in the eyes, lips drawn into a tight frown. “I’m not interested in a two-minute reminiscence and a promise of a call that never comes. You cut off all contact with me with no explanation. I thought we were close. I can walk back through that door and out of your life, if you want. Or –”

Manjoume swallowed, trying to sink his heart back to its normal resting place from where it was lurking in the back of his throat.

“Or, you can tell me now what’s going on with you.”

“I was busy. I kept forgetting -”

Fubuki sighed and pushed himself away from the wall, starting towards the door. Manjoume grabbed a panicked handful of Fubuki’s shirt.

“No, no, don’t go. I… I just needed some time to think, that’s all.” Fubuki stopped, but didn’t turn around. Manjoume continued, tripping over the words. “And by the time I figured it out, it felt like it was too late, and I couldn’t just pretend like it was nothing, so I…”

Fubuki looked back over his shoulder at Manjoume, his face tensed under the dim backstreet lighting. “What’s so important to think about that you’d sacrifice our friendship?”

Manjoume let his hand fall, defeated, and looked at his shoes. “Love.”

“…Love?” Fubuki repeated, softly, turning towards Manjoume.

“Seeing you now,” Manjoume whispered as his cheeks reddened, “it’s the same. Even if I haven’t been with you, my feelings haven’t changed, it seems.”

Fubuki put his hands on Manjoume’s shoulders to still their shaking. “You love me.”

Manjoume nodded, and smiled in grim apology.

Fubuki leaned in, pressing Manjoume to the tile of the wall behind, and waited agonising seconds before his lips found Manjoume’s, soft and with the fruity tang of cheap cocktails.

“All those hints I dropped… You didn’t get any of them, huh?” Fubuki’s smile was irrepressible as Manjoume’s hands found their way up his back to his shoulder blades. “And Asuka says I’m as subtle as a brick.”

“You could have just told me.” Manjoume chided Fubuki with a soft peck on the cheek.

“So could you.” Fubuki nuzzled to the left, bringing their lips into contact once more.

“I did.” Manjoume kissed back.

“Took you long enough.” Fubuki twined a hand in Manjoume’s black hair, holding him close. “But I’m so very glad you did.”


End file.
